Dark Side of The Moon
by Bananas102
Summary: Sam and Dean were hunting a new breed of werewolf when something happened: Sam was bitten. The brothers need to adjust to this new change and also find out exactly what they are dealing with. Especially since something in the forest is keeping tabs on them.
1. Chapter 1

"Sam! C'mon man, answer me! Sam!"

Dean kept his fingers clamped tightly around the hilt of his gun, both him and the weapon stiff with cold. His breath came out in short puffs that made little clouds before fading away. His eyes were wide as he frantically scanned the trees for any sign of his brother.

In the distance he heard something break, then a long howl that sent shudders down his spine. But what made Dean sprint through the trees, leaping over falling branches and stones, and running through the brush...

...was the scream.

* * *

Sam carefully maneuvered through the brush of fallen leaves and branches that made soft crunches beneath his boots.

The cold prickled at the skin of his face and hands, and he swallowed hard.

He froze, adrenaline racing through his veins and his heart speeding up, as twigs and branches snapped loudly in the black of the forest. Sam didn't even dare to shift, just minutey turned his head to try at keep the thing in his sights.

The part of the forest he stood in was so thick the moon was obscured by the trees, so it had the advantage over him.

A loud keen filled his ears, and a force slammed into his side like a brick wall. Before his mind could even register he'd been hit, searing pain dug into his left forarm, which was the arm he instictually thrown to to catch himself.

He cried out before grabbing for his gun with his other hand. With a jolt of fear he grasped at empty air. The gun must've been thrown on impact. The creature's jaw slacked, just a little, and Sam catavaulted back, groaning at the scrape of his bleeding would against the hot teeth of his attacker.

Sam got to his feet and took off running, the hot blood distracting on his arm. He didn't know where he was going, or even the direction. Sam just kept flying through the trees, leaping over objects and weaving through the trunks.

Light thumps followed him, growing louder and closer, and then knives seemed to rake down his right shoulder to his right hip. His face contorted in pain and he cried out just as a heavy force slammed him belly first onto the forest floor.

* * *

Dean skidded to a halt, chest burning, and throat aching. His gun seemed to jerk up on it's own accord, and he unconsiously drew his other hand up to cup the bottom of the hilt of the gun in his palm with practiced efficiantcy.

He fired two shots, and the massive beast roared as it twisted back to avoid more. Sam gasped, and dragged himself away from the thing.

Dean tightened his grip on his Glock and shot again and again until the lump of dirty grey fur didn't move. He breathed a sigh of relief, his eyes closing for a rief second, before the next important things became clear.

"Sam!"

* * *

Dean laid Sam on the bed, and Sam arched as the fabric of the comforter rubbed against the still bleeding wound carved in his back.

He gasped in pain and writhed, a move his did not consiously control. Dean tore the first aid kit of of his bag and yanked it open, his eyes scanning the contents of what he needed before it was fully open.

His hand reached and grabbed bandages and thread with the needle stuck in it.

There are no pain meds with him. He knows that. But it doesn't make him do anything short of a desperate search for them. A bottle of pills, a syringe and drugs, hell, alcohol; but there was none.

Dean jogged over to the other bed and flipped Sam over onto his stomach, who groaned. Sam lay panting from the pain, the overwhelming feel of it all making him nauseous.

Dean cut Sam's shirt off of him, trying to spare Sam as much pain as possible, while Sam didn't even care that it was oe of his favorite shirts.

Dean sighed, and he leaned over so his gaze could flicker to Sam's. "I'm going to start stitching, 'kay?" Sam looked up at him through glazed eyes. And as much as he wanted to shake his head no and just lay there, he knew he had to get sewn up so Dean could staunch the bleeding.

He gave a subtle nod of his head. Dean tok a breath and started threading the needle through the skin. Sam grimaced, bowing his head to bury it in the ruffled comforter.

Dean sewed up all three claws wounds before bandaging them and gingerly moving Sam so he was laying back against the pillows. As soon as Dea moved to Sam's bloody arm, did Sam realize what happened.

Quick as a snake, Sam's hand grabbed Dean's wrist. Dean looked at Sam in confusion. Sam stared at Dean, a horrified expression on his face. His eyes were slowly filling with tears. Sam's grip on Dean wrist suddenly slackened. Sam looked down at his arm.

"It bit me," he whispered.

* * *

Dean stilled, heart beating loudly as he looked at the bloody bite. Each tooth had sunk in. Deep.

Sam exhaled shakily, and Dean snapped out of his shock-shelled state, unlike his little brother. He snatched bandages and wrapped it up in lots of thick white cloth.

Dean finally sat back on his heels near the foot of the bed, looking at his brother. Sam just stayed stilled, eyes glazed as he seemed to stare at a spot two inches from his face, but Dean knew he was just trying to work through it.

Suddenly, Sam turned his head to look at Dean intently. It was a quick action that looked almost painful.

"Kill me."

Two words. They weren't spoken in a soft, scared voice that would have gone along pretty well with the situation, no. Sam said them forcefully, the hint of a plea hidden underneath the impact those words were sure to bring.

Dean's gaze immediately hardened. "No, Sam," he said with as much force as he could muster. Sam's head slowly tilted to the side. "You have to, Dean. Before I end up killing people."

It was a simple truth, a fact both parties knew. Dean shook his head. "No," he said again, the volume of tone growing closer to yelling. Sam sat up. "Dean," he said, voice low and dangerous. "I _will _end up killing someone, and that _will_ be on me," he growled.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Sam cut him off. "No! You swore you'd do it if I ever turned into something I'm not. I don't want to be this!" He ducked his head away before whimpering, "You promised."

Dean exhaled shakily an rubbed a hand over his face. "I know. I know, Sam. But you're not evil. Not now, not ever. We'll adapt to this. We'll fix it, just like we always do. You need to trust me."

Sam looked up, blinking away the wetness in his eyes and btitng the corner of his bottom lip, an action that made him look more vulnerable and several years younger than he was.

He took a shuddering breath.

"I do."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam fidgeted on the bed. Dean pursed his lips, eyes flickering back and forth from the moon in the sky through the window, and his little brother. Neither knew if anything was going to happen, which is why they were still keeping tabs on the night sky.

The moon had risen almost ten minutes ago, and so far the only thing ailing Sam Winchester was a headache. Well, besides the wounds he had sustained the previous night. After a few heated arguments from both parties, Dean trying to keep Sam in bed all day, and the angst growing by each ticking, they had their hands full.

Sam was tapping his fingers against his thigh like a druggie trying to keep his mind off of his next fix.

Over the next half an hour, the dull ache in Sam's head increased to a sharp throbbing. He kept one hand tapping his leg and the other to piched the bridge of his nose while his eyes were kept shut.

"Sam? You okay?"

Sam nodded, trying to up his courage enough to open his eyes, but his migraine managed to convince him otherwise.

"Bullshit," Dean groused. He rose wearily from his chair and rummaged through the bag still half open with a few content still tossed on the bedspread.

He swiped a bottle of pills and dumped two in his hand before fetching a plastic cup of water from the bathroom and making sure his brother downed the pills. But they didn't help. Not at all.

Soon Sam had starting shaking and feeling nauseous. His skin grew clammy and a severe fever sprouted up, all in an hour.

"C'mon, Sam, drink up." Sam mumbled something, and turned his head away just as another violent tremor shook his frame. Suddenly, there was a loud crack and Sam cried out and arched off the bed.

Dean swore and tossed the cup, it was only water. Another crack, then another, and Sam was screaming, scrambling off the bed and flailing so much Dean couldn't touch him.

With a gasp, a huge feeling of horror hit his gut like a punch. He could _see _bones breaking and muscles moving under his skin, making his stomach coil with fear and a sense of being lost.

Sam was on all fours, and his back kept twisting abruptly as more and more bones and internal organs did whatever they were doing. And throughout those torturous changes, Sam wouldn't stop screaming.

Dean was almost hyperventilating, hands twitching, but so unsure of what to do, and the lack of action was making his fear sky-rocket.

For another two hours Sam writhed on the motel floor in agony. When the moon started to near his peak, Sam's keens went even higher, if that was possible. Then his skin started to shift, twisting and molding into different shapes.

Dean had to strongly resist the urge to gag. Sam tried to get up, but only managed to settle back onto his haunches. The tremors seemed to have subsided some and Dean quickly scrambled onto the floor in front of his brother.

Sam's eyes, which were glazed with pain and bright with adrenaline, finally saw him. His face was the definition of pain. "..._D'n?_" Dean finally snapped and he grabbed his brother and pulled him into his arms, emotional comfort the only thing he could provide.

Suddenly, a shudder ran through Sam's body and Sam started to push feebly against Dean's chest in a weak attempt to get him away. Dean relented and let him wriggle out of his embrace.

Sam looked down at his hands, where his fingertips were starting to bleed. His nails started to lengthen into claws. His teeth began to grow into grow into fang-like canines. Saliva and blood dripped from Sam's mouth. Dean had to backpedal when Sam let out another scream and fell back onto all fours, where his elbows and legs started to bend and crack into more animalistic front legs and haunches.

Dean swallowed hard. Halfway through Sam's scream, his vocal chords seemed to rip, for his mouth was open, but no sound came out. Then, after another moment, a mix of a human cry and a growl emitted from his throat.

To both of the brother's despair, Sam remained in limbo. Dean cast another frantic glance at the window to see the moon growing dim and a light streak of orange seeping into the dark blue sky.

When the rays of sunlight started to shine into the room, Sam's agonized panting grew lighter and more even. Dean's eyes widened and he lumbered to his feet and grabbed Sam under his armpits before dragging him to the window.

The sun hit Sam and his fangs and claws receded almost instantly and his bones melded back into place, which Dean noted, didn't seem to hurt as much as they did bending out of shape.

Within minutes, Sam was fully human. Dean let go and fell back. He slumped against the wall, legs splayed out in front of him. His head throbbed and his ears rang, exhaustion fogging over him.

But he watched Sam. Sam was panting and gripping the windowsill so hard his knuckles were white. His hazel eyes were glowing and alight with the russet orange of the dawn.

Sam turned away to look at Dean and their eyes met.

Sam's held unshed tears.


	3. Chapter 3

"Sam?" Sam was exhausted. But not hurting, much anyway. After he had turned back to human, it seemed whatever healing touch the sun had given had healed his wounds to pink puckered scars. But Sam was aching all over and light shivers made him tremble now and again.

"Sam?" Sam blinked and looked over blearily to look at Dean. "Yeah?"

Dean looked as exhausted as he did. "You okay?" Sam nodded. "Tired," he mumbled.

His older brother nodded. "Sleep, Sam."

Sam wasn't sure if he said something or not but he was out before he could remember.

* * *

Dean had tried to stay awake. He really had. But he had almost literally passed out by the tie his vision swam and he kept trying to support himself when he took nose dives off the bed, only to discover he hadn't moved at all.

Sam woke up around 2:00 in the afternoon, and he looked over to see his brother dozing in a light sleep. Sam smiled to himself. His rough and tough brother always looked so vulnerable and peaceful when he slept, his mouth open just a little.

He checked the clock and quietly rose out of bed. He seemed to ache all over, but at least it was quickly fading. As much as Sam tried to convince himself otherwise, he was scared.

Majorly.

Sam knew werewolves. He had dealt with a few. But they never transformed like he had. Was this some kind of new breed? They were currently on the eastern coast of Canada, whole 'other country.

But the only reason they were there was because of the 46 people who had gone missing or turned up torn apart.

Apparantly hunters were scarce in Canada.

* * *

Dean woke to see Sam gone. His heart leapt into his throat and he tumbled off the bed, shaking away the rapidly fading fog of sleep.

He swallowed convulsively, his throat dry. He stepped outside into the brightness of the afternoon sun. Sam was leaning against the wall of the motel, only about 30 feet give or take from their door.

"Sam?" Sam looked over, one eyebrow raised in question.

"How are you?" he asked. Dean huffed, a hint of a smile, though fake, graced his features.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Sam buried his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "I feel okay. Maybe a little sore, but whatever happened...I was healed when the sun came up."

Dean nodded and exhaled. "You sure? I'm trusting you on this." Dean seemed open, but he was looking at Sam. Sam realized Dean was giving him control, albiet only a little.

Sam bowed his head by a fraction. "I'm sure."

Dean cocked his head and tossed the Impala's keys up into the air before catching them mid-air. "Then let's go hunting."


	4. Chapter 4

"And where could we find him?" Dean asked. He hated this suit. It was cold, itchy, and it bunched in all the wrong places.

Sam almost snickered at the irritated look on Dean's face. Almost.

The lady they were talking to was small, grey and white hair swept up into a messy bun with a few strands hanging loose. She had a shawl over her shoulder, of which she had insisted she had knitted herself.

Her name was Mrs. Tubbs. Another reason Dean found old people weird.

She had mentioned a man to the two brothers, and they were told that he lived alone in a cabin in the woods.

Mrs. Tubbs seemed to think for a moment. "Well," she started, pointing a crooked finger down the road, "If you follow the main road through town and down past a mile or so, there's a old dirt road down yonder."

"Thank you," Sam said with his dimpled smile. They turned around on the rickety white porch and headed down the steps, their shoes made hollow thuds on the weak wood.

"It'll be on the left, dear!" she called. Dean hid a smile until they were in the car and he was shiting out of park and turning onto the road.

"Dude, she was totally all over you," Dean laughed. Sam rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

* * *

Sure enough, as the Impala rumbled through town and down the road, an old path next to a fallen tree seemed to jump out at them.

"There," Sam said, pointing. Dean blinked and swerved to the side of the road, where he parked the car.

Sam blinked, his eyes narrowing just a hair.

"What are you doing?" Dean paused before his sharp green eyes studied the pine needles and dirt of the path. It was uneven and well hidden.

"There's no way the Impala can fit through there," he said, twirling the keys 'round a finger before sliding them into his pocket. He clambered out of the car, a yawn starting in his throat.

He swallowed it, which was a little painful.

Sam followed him, climbing out to stand in the cool air, a small breeze ruffling his hair.

Almost immediately, a musky scent filled his nose, but it was gone a moment later, carried away by the wind. Sam exhaled. "Dean." Dean turned around.

"What?"

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it partially. He didn't know how to phrase it. "I, I think I _smell_ something. Another wolf." Sam inwardly broke as Dean's face deadpanned.

''Oh." Sam swallowed, lowering his gaze to a pile of leaves before looking up again. Dean nodded before clearing his throat. "Think you can follow it?" Sam almost grimaced at the almost dog referance, but complied anyway.

"I can try," he said.

* * *

Sam was actually able to track the scent, right up to the door the trail led to. It was a small old cabin, everything inside coated with dust and small dead bodies of insects. Dean sneezed loudly, and Sam suppressed a grin.

"You okay there, Mary Poppins?"

Dean sent him a glare. "Shut up."

Sam smiled.

After a search of the place, they realized it was empty. Dean looked at Sam. "Anything with your super sniffer?" Sam gave him a look before breathing in deeply. A potent wave hit him from the left, and he moved to see a door.

"There," he said, gesturing with his gun.

They took up positions on opposite sides of the door. Dean reached over and opened it. Silence. Sam moved in, quickly descending the stairs with light thumps of his shoes.

Dean followed, and the door swung shut behind them, enveloping the two in darkness.

There was a click and Dean flinched as a the basement erupted into light. His brother stood not two feet away, hand still wrapped around a string that led to the light.

The room was void of anything and everything, save for the huge cage in the far right corner. The bottom was barred, just like the rest of the cage. The bars themselves were a few inches thick, while the door lay on the floor at their feet, a dent mishaping it.

The lock and chain keeping the thing shut was discarded on the floor.

"This is where the werewolf came from," Dean said. Sam nodded.

* * *

"Maybe you should knock me out," Sam suggested to his brother, who was anxiously looking out the window at the moon. Dean frowned.

"Sam..."

"It's just an idea."

But they waited, until the darkness had swallowed up the room and they were unmoving.

The moon wasn't full, and the only thing that happened was Sam getting a massive headache, one that kept him curled up on the bed.

"How you doing?" Dean asked in a quiet tone. Sam grimaced. "I feel like a mountain is on my head."

Dean pressed a little white pill into his brother's palm. Sam didn't open his eyes.

"What is it?" he mumbled. Dean inhaled, then exhaled. "Effective."

Sam felt for the cup of water on his nightstand for a minute, before Dean half-heartedly rolled his eyes and passed it to him. Sam swallowed the pill dry and kept it down with a swig of water.

Like before, when the sun came up his ailments shriveled up like cold water in the desert.

They both let out sighs of relief and Sam got up towards the bathroom. A flash of familiar dark fur caught his eyes and he glanced out to see the back end of a wolf retreating into the nearby trees.

* * *

**After re-reading this I became aware of my awful spelling errors. I am so sorry! **

**Plus...THANK YOU ALL FOR THE REVIEWS! **

**I love reviews! I don't get a lot, but each one of them counts :)**

**I'll update as soon as possible :P**


	5. Chapter 5

"Dean."

"I swear to God, I'm going to shoot that thing if it doesn't leave."

"Dean..."

He grumbled under his breath.

"DEAN!"

"What?"

"Just let it walk around," Sam said, watching the wolf outside. Dean huffed. "It's creeping me out, Sam." Sam rolled his eyes. "It hasn't hurt us, and it hasn't made any move to hint that it wants to."

"It keeps watching us! It a friggin' werewolf Sam! Twelve days after the full moon!" Dean hissed. Sam frowned, blinking before sending his brother a glare. "You're not killing it."

Dean rubbed hand over his eyes. "God," he groaned. "Why?" Sam scowled. His mouth opened slight, then shut. Finally, his lips formed words. "I, I don't know, Dean, okay? I feel...It's just a feeling."

His big brother raised his eyebrows. "Just a feeling?" Sam shrugged. "Yeah," he offered. Dean muttered something, but relented and let the gun drop from his hand and onto the bed.

The wolf whined. It was actually quite large. It seemed slender in a way and Sam was pretty sure it was a girl, no matter what Dean said. The fur was similar to the one that had bitten Sam, but it wasn't the same.

This one was less muscular, with small paws and soft green eyes. It wasn't graceful, not really. It lumbered, sometimes settling down and resting her head on her front paws while watching the brothers through the motel window.

And Sam hadn't lied, he really did have some sort of feeling. A connection maybe, to the wolf laying outside. But as their eyes locked, he knew it was something else. Something that had been tugging on Sam's mind the moment Dean expressed his dislike of the werewolf.

Why was it okay for Dean to go around killing werewolves, if Sam was one too? It felt wrong, and the idea felt like an ache in Sam's chest. Dean was so itchy to pull the trigger, yet he was berating Sam for suggesting the same fate for himself.

Why was it okay for him to live and the others to die? Like the one watching him. She seemed almost harmless. Not like the others he'd encountered before. The others had been wild, ferocious and having no other urge than violence and hunger.

But her blue eyes rang with intelligence.

Sam closed his eyes momentarily.

God, what were they going to do?


	6. Chapter 6

The wolf followed the two everywhere. The store, the diner, the motel. The car.

Or...the hood of the car.

"Hey! Get the hell off my car!" Dean yelled angrily. Sam ducked his head to hid his smirk. The lump of fur of the hood huffed and lazily slid off the hood of the Impala, where it had been laying in the sun.

The wolf trotted over to Sam and nudged his hand, knowing exactly what she wanted. Sam reached down to pet her head gently, and she leaned into the touch. With the other hand, Sam fished out the piece of bacon he had saved in his pocket.

She chewed it and nuzzled Sam's leg gratefully. Sam smiled at her.

"Sam, let go! Stop messing around with her."

Sam grinned, not pointing out that Dean had finally referred to her as a girl. By that point, Dean didn't even try to chase the wolf off, he just tolerated her.

Barely.

Sam got into the car, and then pulled out of the diner's parking lot, Sam's eyes following the wolf and she crept back into the forest, already knowing that she would be there, wagging tail and giving kisses back at the motel.

Sure enough, the werewolf was waiting outside of their door. Dean rolled his eyes, and went inside. "I'm going for a walk," Sam told him. Dean shrugged, already leafing through the pizza menu from the motel nightstand.

It was a nice day out, warm. Summer was coming. The wolf trotted after Sam as soon as he left, walking quietly next to him.

Sam stopped, and the wolf stopped too, looking up at him questioningly. Sam looked down at her. Then he squatted, which gave her a few inches in advantage due to her large size.

"Listen," he began gently, "I don't know who you are. What your name is. Or even how you can hold your form so long after the full moon. But...please."

He sighed.

"You're the only one who can tell me what I am. No one else knows, and there aren't any other places to look. Please." His eyes searched her blue ones.

"Help me."

* * *

"You never thought it would be me, did you dear?" She held the warm cup of tea between two hands, steam drifting from the surface of the drink.

Sam shook his head. "No."

Mrs. Tubbs smiled and him. "You're a good boy, Sam. I'm sorry this had to happen to you." She put a hand over one of his and patted it. He gave her a sad smile.

"It's not going to be any harder for me than it is for you," he said. Mrs. Tubbs raised an eyebrow. "I have no problem with what I am, and my husband didn't either. In fact, it was just another part of our lifestyle. You, on the other hand, are clearly troubled with it. You and that older brother of yours."

Sam frowned. "Can you tell me how we're different werewolves then the ones I've come across before?"

Mrs. Tubbs smiled. "Actually, I can. You see, there are actually different versions of werewolves around the world. North American and South American are very similar. Though the Northern part of Canada seems to be a bit more like the European than the American. Africans are very different from everyone else. Though European and Asian are very similar as well."

Sam nodded, drinking it all in, Mrs. Tubbs noticed. "What kind are we?" Mrs. Tubbs smiled. "We are the European breed. Usually, our kind isn't found in America, as you know."

"How are there different breeds?"

"Climates and geographical locations, were the theories my husband and I came up with."

"I see." Sam frowned again, deeper this time. "Mrs. Tubbs, where is your husband?" She smiled sadly. "He was the one who bit you."

Sam's eyes grew big and moist. "I am so sorry," he said, voice becoming thick with emotion. Mrs. Tubbs immediately tried to put s stop to that.

"Honey, my husband and I made amends with death long ago. We knew dying was a very real possibility. Robert was sick anyway. See, no matter what breed of werewolf you go by, none are supposed change outside of the full moon. Robert was forced to stay changed for awhile, and that poisoned him. The longer he stayed a wolf, the more poisoned he got, and the more violent and animal-like he became."

She shrugged. "It's been months since he had left to go to that rust bucket he called a cabin. He was dying, and getting out of control. We knew what was happening."

Sam's eyes widened. "Then what about you?" he demanded. "You've been a wolf for days. Doesn't that poison you too?"

Mrs. Tubbs nodded. "Yes. But I'm getting on in age, Sam. Even if I wasn't changing out of cycle, I would still be dead in a few years. And that's another thing. Elderly folk like me; their wolves are strong. Very strong. If one were to fight you Sam, you would be dead and nothing could save you. They're rare, so at least you don't have that to worry about too much."

"What are you going to do?" he asked softly.

"Hon, it's a dark and dangerous world out there among the wolves. And I feel responsible for you. Why, I'll be sticking around, of course."


	7. Chapter 7

They moved on to another town, worked a simple salt and burn. Which didn't go smoothly, as they never do, but it was only a few days before they had the chance to move again.

And true to her word, Mrs. Tubbs did not leave. Nor did she shift back to human again.

Sam explained the entire thing to Dean, and even wrote everything down in John's journal. Dean still wasn't happy with Mrs. Tubb's answer, and the fact that she hinted that there was no cure.

It was something Dean refused to even consider. Now that they understood what was going on, Dean had dug into the next thing: Finding a way to fix it. At first, Sam had joined him, tearing through research and keeping awake only by the cups of coffee the motel offered.

But Sam was slowing. Stopping.

Mrs. Tubbs watched as a blanket seemed to cover the young one. A darkness. Not evil. But the circles under his eyes grew darker. His shoulders began to sag. Sam's eyelids drooped to half mast all the time, and he never wanted to get up to do anything.

His walks with her stopped. He didn't even go to the diner with Dean anymore, let alone get bacon for her. But she didn't blame him. She realized the child was falling into depression, with his older brother blind to his struggle by his made search for a cure that couldn't be found.

* * *

Sam was tired. But then again he seemed to always be tired. His eyes ached and his limbs felt heavy. Sam's head was just so _heavy_, like it was a block of concrete. Then there was that ache. The hollow one inside is chest. It was like trying to light a fire in the middle of a blizzard.

He wouldn't get warm.

Time was ticking, and the moon got bigger and bigger. The full moon would start in a few days, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. It was kind of like he couldn't care.

Sam lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. It was actually difficult to get bored these days. Not that anything seemed remotely entertaining either.

"Sam, you wanna come to the diner with me? Their sign said something about free pancakes before eight," Dean offered, trying to spur his lazy little brother out of that bed.

Sam shrugged, reaching up to grind the heel of his hand against an eye. "Not really,"he rasped. Dean almost rolled his eyes, but got himself to refrain. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.

Something was going on in that head of his, Dean was sure of it. But the tug of that twist in his empty stomach and the taunt of the research he still had to do got him to leave Sam there.

But he knew something was wrong with him. Not just the whole werewolf thing. No, wait, that's not what he meant. He didn't consider Sam to be a freak or a monster just because he was a werewolf.

No. Dean was pretty sure it had to do with whatever thoughts were skipping around in that geek head of his.

And he was going to find out what they were.

* * *

Sam frowned. He wondered if maybe he was depressed. But it was only a month since he was bitten. There's no way he could have fallen into depression that fast.

Right?


	8. Chapter 8

It was like being hit with a sack of bricks. Except Dean would actually know what to do with a sack of bricks.

Depression.

His little brother had depression. Dean probably wouldn't have figured it out for a long time, if ever, if Sam hadn't left his laptop open.

With a very interesting browser. It had caught his eyes at first. but then the purple letters drew his attention. And as he read, the symptoms seemed to click together audibly in his mind.

-shows lack of interest in activities

-seems sad, down.

-sleeps often, says they're tired (decreased energy)

-has difficulty or refuses to make decisions, possibly brushes them off

-loss of appetite

-anxious or seems to have lack of emotion

Oh God.

* * *

Sam's eyes opened and he blinked back sleep. With a small sigh he rolled over onto his back.

To see Dean sitting on the edge of the other bed, looking at him. He was leaning forward, legs spread and forearms resting on his thighs while his hands were clasped together.

The stance meant that there was a discussion involved in the next few minutes. Sam's finger immediately pulled the hem of the sheets inbetween them, thumbs rubbing against it absentmindedly.

His other hand fisted the bottom sheet and he pulled himself upright before letting go of the sheet and pushing himself back against the wall. He looked at Dean before raising an eyebrow.

"What?"

Dean's right eyes twitched, notifying Sam that he was refraining from glancing at something. So it was relatively serious then.

Sam let his body sink against the wall. He was tired. Dean's face softened a fraction, so the action hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Sam, I'm not going to starting beating some goddamn bush. I'm going to give it to you straight."

Sam blinked, looking away from Dean for a moment as the words digested in his brain.

"Okay?"

"I think you might have depression. And I know you think the same."

Sam frowned, eyebrows drawing together. "Have you been going through my stuff?" he asked, an accusatory tone lacing the words. His gaze flickered over to where his laptop sat. Open.

There was a flicker of anger, but then Sam sighed, and it dissolved on it's own. Which Dean was not expecting.

"And?" Sam seemed to be bored. No.., not bored exactly...just tired.

"And? It's a problem, Sam."

"I honestly don't really care."

"You don't care? What about your werewolf thing, do you not care about that too?" Dean snapped. Sam deadpanned.

There was a pregnant pause. "I assume that's a problem as well? What I am? There isn't a cure Dean, so I guess that just makes _me _the problem."

Dean sighed. "Sam-"

"Did you think I didn't notice? I'm a werewolf, Dean. I may not have turned fully yet, but I have heightened senses. You look at me as though I'm something wrong, not like your brother. You narrow your eyes at me whenever I use my senses in a way no human could. But then again, I'm not human, am I? That's been made abundantly clear. Your desperate search to find a cure that doesn't exist because you don't want to have to face the fact that I'm a monster. Right? You've been so focused on what I am, you've never asked me once how I've felt. How this has affected me. Knowing I can't change what I am and that it would be a lot simpler if I just turned a silver bullet on myself-"

Sam was cut off as he fell off the bed, smarting cheek ablaze from Dean's fist.

Dean closed his eyes and took a breath before going over o the other side of the bed and grabbing Sam by the collar of his shirt and pulling him flush against him.

Sam's eyes widened as he felt strong arms encompass him and he blinked slowly, trying to figure out what was happening.

"Wha-?" he breathed.

"I'm sorry," Dean said. "I'm so sorry, Sammy."

Sam gasped and tried to push himself out of Dean's hug. But Dean wasn't having it.

Finally, Sam stilled and breathed in the scent of whiskey and car gas.

"Are you okay?"

Sam almost didn't catch it because Dean asked it so quietly, but once his mind registered what his older brother was asking, his hazel eyes grew moist.

He started trembling and Dean only squeezed him tighter.

"It's okay, little brother. Everything's going to be okay."


	9. Chapter 9

It was the first of the three days of the full moon.

Sam's foot was bouncing like a druggie anxious for his next fix. Dean had taken to tapping his fingers against the wooden table in the motel, not that the action was any better than Sam's.

All the motel rooms down the strip were bought out, so they didn't have to worry about anyone listening in to Sam turning. In a few minutes.

"You nervous?" Sam asked. Earlier on they had gone through another argument, Dean insisting that he stay with Sam in order to see him through the transformation while Sam told him that he was a moron and he would end up killed.

Dean stayed, using the 'big brother's always right' excuse, which Sam was getting _really _tired of. Dean kept his eyes on his little brother, watching for even a shift in his demeanor.

"Nah."

A low whine came from outside, ad Sam's head twitched to the side, eyes flickering to the window.

"Sam?" After subtly glancing at Dean, he had to assume Dean didn't hear it. Sam could see the soft glow of the oncoming moon as his head began to ache at the very thought.

His stomach clenched nauseatingly when he thought about last month's events.

Frankly, he was terrified. Even though he had only gotten halfway through last time, it was awful. It was painful, every moment. And his body was cruel enough to keep him flooded with an undying stream of adrenaline, keeping him sharp and completely awake.

The top of the moon stretched over the tips of the pine trees, bathing the upper branches in light. Sam swallowed bile and tried to keep the urge to vomit to a minimum.

"Sam?" Sam looked over to Dean with a questioning gaze. "You okay?" Dean asked, wording the question carefully. Sam nodded slowly. "I think so," he said hoarsely.

Moonlight flooded the room like a tsunami encasing a beach. Dean watched, heart thudding violently against his ribcage, as beams shone right on Sam.

They lit up his eyes so vividly that he could see the exact moment he started to change, and it was a sight he would never forget, and a sight he would never see again.

The hazel color blazed brightly, streaks of yellow glowing for only a moment, and Sam's black pupils constricted.

Sam winced and brought the heel of his hand up to his head and let out a pained hiss.

Dean watched his brother practically leap to his feet and stumble to the bathroom, the sound of retching reaching his ears loud and clear.

He slowly raised himself out of his chair and flinched as a loud cry came from Sam's direction. Dean's throat went dry.

Sam was suddenly at the door frame, clenching it with such force his knuckles were white and his hands were shaking. A loud crack and Sam's agonized keen was the only thing Dean could hear.

Like last time, bones and muscles knitted and tore, twisting and turning under the skin. Dean was so horrified he almost blocked out the sound of Sam's endless screaming. Sam's screams cut off for him to cough and make a choking sound, blood and saliva pooling on the carpet.

He took in a shuddering breath. With a snap, his elbows cracked, trying to rearrange themselves in a different direction. Sam cried out, eyes squeezed shut and tears leaking out of the corners of their eyes.

He screamed, and then then they were cut off again, but Sam's mouth remained open in a silent cry. A growl started in Sam's chest, and then he snarling, face twisted in pain.

His legs were forced up into animalistic hackles, just like before, and Sam's spine curved.

Sam's ribcage jutted out, and his clothes began to tear. His canines lengthened once more and they gleamed in the light. Sam's nails grew longer and sharpened into claws.

But this time, instead of stopping, the effects continued. Fur started growing, out of his arms and legs, covering his entire body. Dean was frozen, eyes wide with rare vulnerability and horror. His limbs were lead.

Sam somehow got upright and stumbled to the corner of the room, snarling and releasing sharp barks.

Dean couldn't see his brother in the corner of black, so he shuffled forward a step. He didn't trust his voice, but figured that he should try it anyway. "S-Sam?" he squeaked, before clearing his throat. "Sam?"

A long howl was his answer.


	10. Chapter 10

Eyes glinted in the dark corner before Sam emerged. He was pretty large, not that Dean was surprised, given he was a sasquatch in regular form too. His chestnut fur was long and shaggy.

Hazel eyes peered up at him. But they didn't know him.

Sam bared his teeth and growled low in his throat, a warning. Dean knew perfectly well that there was a handgun on the bed only a few feet away, but both Sam and Dean also knew for a fact that he would never grab it.

Dean swallowed, and shifted a foot back. Sam's gaze flickered down and his big ears twitched. Dean took another step back. Right onto the beer bottle he had refused to pick up the night before.

With a startled grunt, Dean landed flat on his ass. Both the action and the cry alarmed the already skittish Sam and he snarled, hackles raising. "Oh, crap," Dean murmured.

Sam lunged.

* * *

Dean would never remember seeing Sheila Tubbs break through the window, but he would be grateful for a very long time.

She landed on her paws, stumbling a bit before catching herself. She didn't hesitate to slide herself in between Sam and Dean, growling her own warning at Sam. He whined before crouching in a sign of submission.

Sheila licked Sam's ear, and he did the same before rising back to his full height. Dean didn't even dare to breathe, just in case both wolves panicked. Sheila raised her lips in some sort of wolfish smile, and Dean almost laughed.

She looked back at same and barked before looking back at Dean. At least she was sane. She recognized him clearly, thank God.

She trotted up to him before looking back at Sam. Sam backed up, head down and another pitious whine coming from him.

Sheila went to his side and pressed her snout against her own and Sam leaned into it, ducking his head even more to hide in her fur.

Dean figured it was safe and sat up, legs crossed. He smiled at the two. "Still shy, are you Sammy?"

One hazel eye peered at him.

Dean blinked. "Come on, Sam," he encouraged, trying to keep his tone light and soft. Sam's ears perked and then two eyes were peeking at him. Dean grinned.

"Sammy? It's Dean." At 'Dean' Sam disengaged himself from Sheila before cautiously padding up to him. His dark brown nose twitched, sniffing the air.

Dean let him smell him, even though it wa a little weird. It could be used as blackmail in the morning. Sam stepped closer before making one of the most adorable sounds that could ever be heard.

Dean didn't even have a second before a mound of fur was trying to crawl into his lap. Sam was kind of too big, so he settled for having his front half on Dean's lap with his face pressed into his shoulder.

With wide eyes, Dean slowly reached down to stroke Sam's fur.

Sam sighed.

* * *

Another howl rang from the forest and Sam's face turned to look curiously at the forest. He seemed confused, but Sheila was bristling, snarling, hackles raised.

"Sheila?" Sheila stopped snarling long enough to look at Sam, then him. She raced towards the window and leapt up and out. Sam yowled, and got to him feet, trotting after her before Dean could grab him.

Sam reached up to rest his paws on the smooth windowsill with his back paws standing on a few pieces of broken glass.

Dean got to his feet, foot tingling from Sam's weight resting on it for so long. "Sam, don't," he warned. Sam looked at him before blinking, and it was like the light finally came on.

Like Sam could see Dean as _Dean_. He whined before lifting himself onto the windowsill, breeze from outside ruffling his fur. Another howl, followed by a animalistic shriek, sent Sam streaking towards the forest.

Dean watched in amazement as Sam vanished into the underbrush. "Sam!" He grabbed the gun and tucked it into the back of his waistband, grumbling as he climbed out the window and landed on the grass, jogging into the trees after his crazy ass brother.


	11. Chapter 11

Sam's paws propelled him across the hard packed hirt and dead pine needles. He skidded to a halt before lifting his nose and sniffing the air. He hoped Dean wouldn't come after him, but it was unlikely.

The winds blew through the trees and Sam thought he heard the end of a whine, and he took off.

He froze when he came across a large clearing. There were about five wolves standing there. One, he saw, was Sheila, and he quickly trotted to her side. She nudged him gently.

Sam recognized the alpha. He was large, with thick black fur and black eyes. He had thick muscles and powerful jaws. Sam whined questioningly, not sure why they were there.

Sheila nudged him again, this time harder, as of telling him to listen. Sam turned his gaze back to the alpha and saw he was shaking. But not from fear. From anger. He barked, and the tone rattled Sam's ones with the message.

_Danger_.

A wolf yelped and stumbled, something silver embedded in it's tan flank. The alpha snarled, hackles up and teeth bared, saliva dripping from his jaws. Sheila growled, muscles trembling with adrenaline.

Sam backpedaled, head turning, trying to see where the dart came from.

Sheila squeaked as another buried itself in her leg. She shook it, trying to get it out, but the drug was already at work, making her stumble, then finally fall.

The wolves were falling quickly, and Sam didn't know what to do. He had only met them and he wasn't even sure where they were, what the point of any of this was. But then he remembered something.

More, someone. _Dean._

He tilted his head back and let out a shrill keen, praying to whatever higher power was there that Dean stayed away.

Something shiny sailed past Sam's ear and he flinched back, his paws scrabbling at the dirt.

Then something sharp hit him in the chest. He tried to look down, but he couldn't see it. His vision blurred and he managed to get into the trees before he collasped, his last thought on his brother.

* * *

Sam opened his eyes to see the ceiling of the motel room. He frowned. That wasn't right.

"Sam? You awake?" A sharp retort was on the tip of his tongue, but Sam swallowed it. Now wasn't the time to be a smart ass. He sat up, then had to blink several times as the room wobbled.

Suddenly, Dean was right there in front of his face. "Take it easy, Sam." But Sam wasn't listening, because there was something important. Very important, and he had to remember. Why couldn't he remember?

"Dean?" he croaked. Dean shifted forward, noting how his brother's eyes were glazed with the remainders of the drug. "Yeah, Sam."

Sam reached up to rub the heel of his hand in his eyes. "What happened?" he asked in a breath no louder than a whisper. Dean frowned, tongue darting out to moisten his lips.

"I found you in the woods, a dart sticking out of you..."

Anything else was lost as the previous night's events flooded his mind.

_Fear. What do I do? What's going on? I'm scared. Fear. What do I do? Dean! Stay away. What- Pain. Confusion. Help! Panic. So much fear...Dean..?_

Sam's head shot up. "Where are they?" Fear coiled in his gut.

Dean's head titled to the side, confusion written on his features. "Sam-"

"No." Panic flooded through his system and he propelled himself out of bed, sheets scraping roughly on the back of his legs. When he got onto his feet, the room titled, and his feet twisted in a vain attempt to keep him upright.

"Whoa! Sam, stop! Who are you looking for?"

Sam felt hands grab his shoulders, one hand gently pulling him arm to turn him. Since he was still weak it wasn't that dificult.

"The others. Sheila. The other wolves. We have to find them, Dean."

Dean frowned, pupils blown wide with confusion and fear. "Sam, what other wolves? In the woods?"

Sam nodded. "Yes. Someone was shooting at us, specifically to knock us out and we have to find them. Please?" he begged.

Dean knew Sam didn't beg. "You're going to turn tonight," he said. Sam blinked. "And? I can use my senses to track the wolves to wherever they were taken."

With a sigh, Dean relented. "Fine."

* * *

Sam moved through the forest with an unnatural grace. Occasionally he would pause and close his eyes before inhaling deeply. Then his eyes would snap open and he would start going in a particular direction.

Neither of them said a word, Dean just following his brother with a gun in hand.

But later on Dean would have to admit Sam was right. He'd found it.

It was a large factory, abandoned and it definitely looked worse for wear, gray and dusty.

* * *

Sheila managed to stay in wolf form, though she knew it was only just going to get harder as time went on. Suddenly, a familiar scent drifted towards her nose.

She whined and raked her claws on the stone ground.

He had to get out of here, he shouldn't be here.

_Sam._


	12. Chapter 12

Dean crept along the cement ground, gun gripped tightly in one hand, knife in the other.

_You clear the way to the door, Sam gets the wolves out. You clear the way to the door, Sam gets the wolves out._

He repeated the mantra in his head over and over again, pupils slitted and alert for even a wisp of movement.

Nothing. Not even a sign. It was almost like...oh no.

* * *

Sam slammed his fist into the guy's face, sending him reeling before tossing him against a wall. In one fluid movement, he bent down and swept up the keys with one hand. He got to the first cage, and immediately he lowered his gaze.

The Alpha. He was strong and stocky, with large muscles and black hair streaked with grey and piercing eyes. "You," he murmured. Sam nodded once. "Alpha," he replied, already unlocking one of the several keeping his cage closed.

When the door was open he walked out, eyeing Sam carefully. Sam went to work, freeing the other wolves from their cages. His eyes widened when he got to Sheila. He bent down and she jumped up instantly to rest her paws on his shoulders in a resemblance of a hug.

A wet tongue darted out to lick his jaw and Sam smiled. Sheila got off of him and all the pack stood together.

The Alpha walked straight to Sam until there was barely a foot of space between their chests. "What's your name?" he demanded. Sam kept his focus on the floor, a few string of hair slipping from where they had been tucked behind his ear.

"Sam." The Alpha leaned closer to Sam, mouth directly next to his ear. "I don't know you. I don't trust you. We were attacked as soon as you arrived. You are _not _part of this pack," he hissed.

Sam nodded once, finally raising his head to look him in the eye. "You got it," he said in a low voice. "But if you want to get out of here, you're going to have to follow me."

A growl started to rumble in his throat but it died when Sheila bristled at him.

"Fine," he ground out.

Sam narrowed his eyes a fraction before slipping around him gracefully and opening the door to get into the hallway. His hand twisted the knob, and as soon as he opened that door, he was seized with waves of pain, rampaging up and down his torso and limbs.

Muted yells were all he heard before he went under.

* * *

Sam awoke with a jolt, heart thudding in his chest.

"You're plan didn't exactly work out, did it?" The Alpha rumbled. Though he couldn't see it, Sam shot him a glare. "My brother was in charge of clearing the way." Fear coiled in his gut like a spring ready to release.

"Something must've happened to him." The Alpha snorted. "This brother of yours, is he human?" Sam frowned, lines appearing on his forehead. "Yeah."

The Alpha seemed to huff in something akin to amusement. "Then he's sold you out, boy." Sam bristled with fury. "He'd never do that," he snapped. Sam could practically feel the anger rolling off the older wolf from the neighboring cell.

"Really? And where's he now?" But that was the question Sam couldn't answer.

* * *

Dean approached one of the guards, eyes light and face friendly. "Hey."

The guard looked him up and down before finally saying, "Hi."

Dean grinned like he was embarressed. "Look man, would you know where to find the wolves? I'm new and pretty darn lost." The guard suddenly looked a lot friendlier. "You the guy replacing Jeff?"

"Uh, yeah."

"I guess you haven't heard yet; the wolves are already being prepped." Dean's brow furrowed. "Prepped?"

The guard raised an eyebrow. "For the fights?" he asked, as if Dean were a child, and the answer was obvious. Dean snorted. "Right, right. Sorry, my mind blanked there for a moment."

Dog fights?

"So, do you think you could point me in the right direction?"


	13. Chapter 13

Dean could hear the yelling two hallways down. The doors to the arena were wide open and the entire was pitch black except for the large fighting area, which was brightly lit. The roof was open so the moon could shine down into the fighting ring.

There was a small passageway that led from a thick metal door to the door to the ring. The sides and floor of the passageway were made of thick bars with only a few inches between them. The ring itself was like a giant cage. A strong cage that could keep an angry bull inside.

One wolf was already in the ring. It's fur was similar to a pastel yellow, light and soft. It's eyes were bright blue. It padded to and fro, crouching down and snarling at people. It's ears were flattened against it's head.

Dean wasn't that far from the ring, and he averted his gaze from the terrified wolf to try and search the crowd for someone who might have the keys to the joint. A loud creak, and the metal door opened.

Deafening cheers filled Dean's ears and he watched as a massive black wolf was pushed into the ring by slender sticks that emitted an electrical charge at one end. Drool dripped from his jaws and his muscles rippled as he tore at one of the cage walls after the door to the ring was securely locked.

"Fight!" someone cried. People screamed in agreement. A few of the guys with the electrical weapons pulled out small squares and lit up one end with a lighter. Then they tossed them in.

Firecrackers. They were provoking the fight. Dean pushed his way through the thick mass of people.

The things went off and wolves wolves snarled, jerking away and towards each other. The blonde one crashed into the other and the black one growled at him. The blonde huffed and growled in return.

Both wolves raised their hackles and bared their teeth.

The black one lunged.

* * *

The blonde wolf's body had been taken out of the ring, smears of blood glinting in the light.

The black wolf snapped his jaws at the guys as they left, two going through the metal door. Dean surmised they were probably going to get another wolf.

He had to find the one with the keys.

Sure enough, when the door opened again, another wolf was being forced to the ring. Dean's eyes caught on dark fur.

Sheila.

Shit.

Dean pushed closer to the arena. Sheila bent crouched down, obviously showing submission.

She was lingering near a cage wall and one of the guys stuck her with an electrical charge.

She yelped and scrabbled away.

The black one growled at her.

Dean had the feeling that he was the pack leader. Alpha, or whatever they were called.

Sheila looked confused, her head cocked, and paws slowly backing away from him. But he just stalked towards her. She growled then, trying to look intimidating. Dean remembered what she had said to Sam.

_The older ones are strong, very strong. They'd kill you easily._

But then he remembered: she was dying.

The black one lunged at her and she whimpered before jumping out of the way. The black one twisted and slammed into her, causing Sheila to roll and he pinned her down when he got the chance to get past he claws and flailing limbs.

His claws sank into her legs, keeping her down on the ground. He stared at her almost apologetically before closing his jaws around her jugular.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, the sound of Sheila's shrieks echoing through the ring.


	14. Chapter 14

Sam was shaking. It was almost painfully visible. He was curled up in the corner of his cell, tail covering his legs and giving him a bit more feeling of security.

Sheila was dead.

Every wolf could her her screams.

And Sam was too terrified to howl for her.

The metal door opened and two men came up to his cage, one pulling out keys. Sam whined, his big eyes wet and emotional.

It was a look that could bring a full grown man to tears. Except these bastards seemed to have no feelings, for they didn't even blink in his direction, just started jolting him.

Sam suddenly became aware of where they were steering him. He tried to get past them, but several jolts send him whimpering, backing away and claws scrabbling and trying to find purchase.

_Dean_. Sam wanted Dean. Dean was good and safe and warm. Dean was brother and family. Dean.

He was forced into the small hallway of about 20 feet that led to the ring. The sharp smell of blood filled his nose and if Sam's stomach had been weaker, if he was in human form for example, he would have puked.

Another scent followed the first. Musky and sharp. Alpha.

Then he was in the ring and the door was being locked. He was trembling.

When he turned around, he was met by the sight of blood. Smear and small pools were almost all over the ring.

And then there was Sheila.

Beautiful eyes open and unseeing, their depths glazed over. Blood matted her fur and she was laying just outside the cage, next to the body of another wolf.

Sam started to bristle.

Sheila.

He turned rage filled eyes on the Alpha.

* * *

Dean heart stopped when he saw a familiar coat of chestnut fur being forced out that door.

He thought he was going to be sick.

Sam suddenly froze, eyes locked on Sheila's body. Then he began to shake, and he turned to the Alpha. Dean could easily tell he was furious.

Dean pushed to the front of the crowd.

This time, though, no one had to provoke them in order for them to fight. The Alpha clearly didn't like Sam and a low growl came from deep in his chest, and Dean could feel the light rumble in the soles of his feet.

Sam raised his hackles and snarled at the Alpha. The Alpha bared his teeth. They started circling each other. Then they both lunged, jaws snapping and both snarling at each other.

The sound was harsh and vicious and it make Dean's hands shake and his heart thud erratically against his chest.

Claws raked against each other and a strangled yelp came from the wolves. Sam's fur stood on end and his eyes were hard and ablaze. Red colored his side.

Dean searched frantically. Who had the keys?

Then Sam lunged, one paw swiped the Alpha's face, claws tearing into his muzzle. The Alpha roared, paws propelling him backwards. Sam used the opening to sink his jaws into the side of the Alpha neck.

The Alpha's claws tore into Sam's chest but Sam didn't let go, only bit harder, blood dripping onto the floor from both werewolves.

One leg kicked out and Sam landed on his back with a painful thud. Dean's eyes raked the crowd.

There.

One guy twirled a ring of keys around a finger, watching the fight with morbid interest.

The Alpha stumbled, the blood loss beginning to affect him.

Sam was uncoordinated, his paws slipping in the pools of his own blood.

Sam's tail twitched.

And the two tore each other apart.

* * *

Dean opened the cages that held the wolves in the back room.

"I'm here to help," he said breathlessly.

He opened the door that led to the ring, and then he opened the other one.

Dean knew they had to hurry.

_"911, what's your emergency?"_

_"There some sort of dog fights going on in some building in the woods. I think they're killing the animals."_

_"Where's your location sir?"_

They had minutes. People started screaming once they saw the werewolves were free. Dean jumped into the cage and without a moment of hesitation, went for Sam.

Sam was on his side, breathing hard and severely wounded. Dean scooped him up in his arms, which almost didn't work because of his size.

Sam whimpered and Dean murmured words of comfort, which calmed his little brother, and within a few minutes, Sam was out like a light, head resting against Dean's shoulder.

Grannies would weep at the sight.

And as Dean carried his little brother through the trees he heard the sound of police breaking into the building behind him.


	15. Chapter 15

**Before I continue, I have to say thank you to every single person who commented. *falls to knees***

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**Thank you thank you THANK YOU!**

* * *

Sam opened his eyes, then suddenly squinted from the onslaught of light.

Then he was alert instantly, memories of the previous night assualting him and leaving him shaking slight and eyes wet with unshed tears.

Sheila.

He brought a hand up to wipe away the wetness. Sam took in a shuddering breath before sitting up.

Sam's lips twisted into a frown as he examined himself. He wore light grey sweatpants and a white shirt, but he sported no injuries. His hazel slid up his arms and they searched his stomach when he lifted up the hem of his shirt.

Hmm, he thought, the wounds must have vanished when he changed back. For a brief moment he wondered if they would be back when he transformed next month.

Looking over, a small smile graced his lips. Dean slept on other bed, lips parted and face devoid of any worry or pain lines.

Dean looked peaceful.

Sam got to his feet, and the slight creak of the bed spring shook Dean from his slumber.

"Sam?"

Sam sat down again on the edge of the bed. "Hey." Dean sat up then, awake and alert. "You okay?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Whatever wounds I had during the full moon vanished when I changed back."

Dean nodded slowly. "Sam, Sheila.."

Sam's face twisted in pain. He exhaled shakily. "I know."

Dean swallowed, searching his brother's face. "I'm sorry."

Suddenly, Sam head twisted and he looked intently out the window.

"Sam?"

"Someone's out there."

Dean frowned and both brother got to their feet simultaneously. "Is it one of the guys who captured you."

Sam suddenly looked in awe, curious and confused. "They're not human."

He pulled on some boots and a flannel shirt before going out, Dean hot on his heels.

It was warm outside, bright and clear.

Insects buzzed and twittered while birds chirped. Light shone through the tops of the trees, illuminating patching of grass on the forest floor.

Sam seemed to almost melt into the trees, moving with an almost unnatural grace.

His hazel eyes were slitted and animalistic, holding the intriguing gaze they did when he was a wolf.

Dean watched in near childish wonder as his little brother seemed to become a different person in moments, became a part of the forest.

Sam seemed to know exactly where to go and no problems showing his big brother the way.

They came upon a clearing, and Dean recognized it from how near it was to the location he had found Sam at when he had been shot with an animal tranquilizer.

Other people stood there, and they looked unsurprised when Sam came padding through the brush.

"Hey," Sam said softly.

A few of them smiled sadly at him. There were about seven total, Sam making eight.

Dean frowned. "Who are you?"

Sam turned back to look at Dean. "Dean, this is the pack." Recognition lit up in Dean's eyes, and a few of the wolves nodded to him in thanks.

"Your pack," one of the men said. Sam frowned.

"I-I don't understand."

A woman made her way to the front, smiling warmly at him though she looked tired. "Sam, you defeated the Alpha and both of you saved us. We are your pack, and you...," she paused.

"You are our Alpha."

Sam's lips parted slightly. "Me?

She nodded. "Yes."

"You."

* * *

**Sequel?**


	16. Chapter 16

**The sequel to the book is up and it's called 'It's Always Darkest Before The Dawn'**

**Enjoy! And THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING!**


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